The Ambassador

Kaan Demir | 30 | Unhappily Married An honest man, sent abroad to lie

[theambassadorkaan]

lucianriviera​:

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The recent weeks had been more trying that even Lucian was willing to admit to himself. Between the fight with Cora and his own wreckage of an office that had needed resolving, to the trail of the killer going cold beyond all compare. Some might think the city had reached its balancing point, where the evils and horrors had finally found their equal counterweight to avoid the tipping point.

Yet Lucian knew better, knew that optimism and hope were only dangerous tools designed to keep those who believed ardently in them wrapped up in their trappings. But nearly a month since Jack’s last strike even he occasionally had to wonder if this was it, or if it was a signal that something even bigger - and even worse lay ahead of them.

Time was the only thing any of them really had, and even then time was on no one’s side.

Some no doubt would have given in to despair, but Lucian viewed this respite as simply a period in which he could ensure his other arrangements were in order. Such as his agreement with Daya, which required a deft and subtle touch. Proof that the Ambassador was caught up in questionable activities or associations, he’d expected it to be difficult but Kaan seemed intent on delivering the content direct to his hands. Because no amount of make-believe and play-pretend washed off the smell of money. He’d been lingering in the shadows around the estate waiting and watching, learning Kaan’s habits and tendencies little by little until he had a rough grasp on how the ambassador went about his life. 

A pawnshop was certainly not the place Lucian expected him to go, it would hardly serve as convincing evidence for anything worthwhile. But then again, perhaps it wasn’t a pawnbrokers, shops could often masquerade as anything on the outside. This was a life that no matter which path you walked appearances could deceive.

Regardless, curiosity stirred the thief to hang back in the darkness of the street out of curiosity to see just what the ambassador did next.

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The hammering of something taking place in the back of the store was the first thing to greet Kaan as he stepped into the Pawnshop. “Hello?” He called, his voice far more confident in tone than what he truly felt being there. He couldn’t help a small peek over his shoulder as he had entered, though he figured that probably made him look more suspicious to the people passing by. It mattered not, however, as his quest this morning was one that needed attending.

‘Good day, what’re wantin’?” The man came from the back room, his accent thick and the stench of the whiskey on his breath even more so.

“I was hoping to inquire about an item that may have recently come into your...establishments possession.” Surely that was the best way to put it, but judging by the smirk that crossed the mans face, he thought perhaps he’d played too much of his hand, and now he wondered if he’d just been labeled a gudgeon.

“Hmm, ye’ ‘spose I could take a look. What is it yer lookin’ fer” Kaan had to make an effort to only breathe through his mouth as the man spoke closer to him and leaned over the stock of items that separated them. 

“A pocket watch.” He announced easily, attempting a less urgent tone as a means to throw off the fact that he was indeed - urgent. “Here, it looks just like this one.” He pulled out his replica, holding it out to the man before placing it in front of him for closer examination. 

“Get that witch craft lookin’ item outta me shop!” The mans face had quickly gone visibly red, Kaan barely had time to pick up the watch and be backed towards the door. “OUT!” He boomed, this time grabbing a crowbar from the side of his counter and making quick work to swing it towards Kaan.

“Christ!” The ambassador cursed, ducking just in time and finding himself very literally falling on his arse outside the shop. “It’s not...” He stood to his feet, brushing off the snow from his jacket as he let out a breath and put the watch pack in his pocket. “Witchcraft.” Well now he wondered if there were any other shops. 

[theambassadorkaan]

dayanitas​:

Like her father before her, Daya is skilled at wearing multiple roles. Architect, business woman, mother, all come second nature to her. As soon as she enters the house, the housekeeper and nanny know they could take a step back. Daya would take control, as Daya always does, and it is in the house, cooking and caring for her daughter, that she takes the most solace. They also know Kaan, foul mood that he is in, should be left alone. They had been witness to far too much tension not to make themselves scarce, and that was exactly what they do, allowing Daya to pick up the mantle of her other duties. 

How ironic that the one role that she cannot fit in to is that of a wife. 

She heads upstairs, spends a moment tending to Pearl in the nursery, but the little girl has no need of her mother right now, wrapped up in imaginary toddler games. Daya watches for a moment, foul temper calming, soft smile spreading on her face, and once she is finally, once again content, she closes the door gently, heading back down the stairs. 

She had hoped to avoid Kaan for the rest of the night. There is nothing they have left to say to each other. Their argument in the carriage was for nothing. Daya would continue to work, Kaan would continue to do whatever it was that he did to occupy his time, and voice his displeasure at the way Daya lived her life, and things would carry on, unchanged. 

Her hopes are dashed, however, when he calls her to him. Daya takes a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever verbal onslaught he has planned, but she will not argue back here. Not when Feriha could be home, able to hear them. Not when Pearl is upstairs, in a place where she should be safe and happy. 

And so, Daya slowly approaches the room, not looking at Kaan, focusing her gaze on the clock upon the mantelpiece. A wedding gift, if she recalls correctly. The very thought makes her want to smash it on the floor. It takes every ounce of willpower she has to ignore his jibe, but somehow, she does. “My name is Daya.” Her voice is devoid of emotion. “What is it that you want, Kaan?” 

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Think better thoughts, think content thoughts. 

This was the mantra that Kaan Demir continually chanted in his head as he listened to the steps of his wife wandering around their estate. He could hear the creak of the door to their daughters room, followed by the sounds of a toddler enjoying their day. He took calmness in that, that he had done enough to provide for his family and his child as they lived and carried on without a worry in the world other than which toy to get next.

With the bitter cold outside, Kaan suddenly felt too warm in his clothing, he took off his coat and placed it over the chair and awaited either his wife’s arrival into the room as he called her or for her to ignore him completely and he would take refuge in the fact that he had tried his best to make some kind of amicable concession.

It was much to his surprise when her steps neared the room he was standing in and then her shadow filled the space before she took her place through the doorway. His eye followed hers, resting on the clock that filled up a large portion of their wall. He didn’t know where it came from, but it had been there since he could remember. After a couple ticks of the hand, Kaan brought his attentions back to Daya as she spoke of her name. 

Yes, he knew her name. All too well, but he ignored her comment as if she had never spoken it. “There are many things that I want.” He stated, honest as he could be because it was, in fact, truth. “Who does not want more than what they have or for the greener pastures of the other side.” Again, his honesty peaked through even with his frustrations. “But mostly what I want right now is to not have to negotiate hostile acquisitions in my own home.” He let out a frustrated breath, as his disloyal hands raked through his hair.

“I think, perhaps, it may be time to go visit your parents.” He wondered if she would bite at the option he lay before her.

[theambassadorkaan]

orianarobles​:

There were moments where all of the world seemed to filter away from view. It had happened the first time she’d met Kaan. She’d practically forgotten who she was, what it was she was supposed to be doing. Of course, reality would come crashing back in the moment that time started up again, collapsing down on top of her with reminders of who she was. What she was in the situation. They usually came in the morning light, in little glances in the looking glass… 

The kiss on her hand made her heart ache in her chest. It was rare and romantic gesture, however short lived. She knew they needed to be careful, knew he couldn’t be found out. But she lived for those little moments. They painted a future in her mind that was too beautiful to be true. A future where he was hers and she was his, and there was nothing more to it…

A smile like sunlight banished away all of her insecurities. Tonight, he was hers. She thought, That would be more than enough. “Two surprises in one evening?” Oriana slipped her arm through the crook of his, settling in close to him as they began to stroll through the frosty evening air. “I must be the luckiest girl in all of London.” 

The crowds were enough to swallow them whole, to hide and keep them safe from prying eyes. Kaan would be seen as just another common man. Nothing suspicious or revealing. And she… well, she was already ordinary. But that would keep Kaan safe, too- No one would (or at least should) look at the pair with an ounce of suspicion. 

His tender words caught her off guard. Perhaps it was the fact that they were still in the crowd, or maybe because there were moments where she doubted that he could ever miss her very much. Oriana’s heart lurched in her chest with that knowledge. He missed me… She’d have kissed him if she hadn’t known any better. So words would have to do. “And I missed you…” Missing him was a strange ache she’d never get used to. “I kept wishing I might catch a glimpse of you… And now I’ve gotten my wish.”

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When he was with Oriana, it wasn’t hard to forget who he was or what he should be doing. Of course, it always nagged him in the back of his mind - that he was failing, that he would be a disappointment, but he didn’t succumb to those thoughts. For too long he denied himself the pleasure he felt just from merely being in this woman’s presence. He didn’t leave his wife, nor abandon his child, so in his own right he felt he needed this - no, deserved it. 

The soft feel of her knuckles against his lips didn’t go amiss. It was always a more than pleasant feeling when his lips touched any part of her. “Am I spoiling you?” He joked, a smirk playing on his lips. There was no such thing as spoiling her, she deserved so much more than he was able to offer her at the moment and he was grateful that in this moment she seemed content with what he had to give. The dark thoughts of what would happen when she tired of being a secret tempted to breech the guard of his mind, but he pushed it back. 

I must enjoy this evening, I cannot allow this to be tainted.

Kaan felt...lighter than normal, and thus the sincere words left his mouth at the aim of caressing her spirits to lighten as well. “I do sympathize the feeling, Aşkım” He spoke the sentence with desired truth as he used her hand laced through his elbow to tow her in the general direction of the fair. As they came up on the populated event, Kaan let out a breath of relief at the site of it. “I knew I needed to make the beginning of the New Year special, I could not see myself beginning it with anyone else.” He stood there as he spoke, not sure if she had already been or if this was seen with new eyes. Kaan waited for her lead on where they were to go, considering of course, that this night was meant to be about her.

His eyes cast idly over to the spot where he had watched Pearl running around with her caretaker the other day, where the idea to spend time with Oriana here first came to his mind. He wouldn’t be sharing that piece of information, however. “I enjoyed coming here one day briefly on a break from doing some business. I was hopeful that you would enjoy it.” He felt he needed to explain himself. Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all, maybe she hated this type of thing.

[theambassadorkaan]

dayanitas​:

Daya couldn’t help it. She laughed. If Kaan thought that was truly the way things were, then he was delusional. “Oh darling,” she said, though there was no hint of affection in the word. “How heavy that ego of yours must be to carry. Allow me to relieve your burden.” She didn’t blink as she spoke, didn’t stutter of her words, speaking them with a fierce certainty. “You gave me my daughter. The most important thing to me. But apart from Pearl, you have given me nothing but misery.” She began to count on her fingers. “My career is mine. My money. My house. My inheritance. I have always been somebody. It seems to me I have given far more to you than the other way around.” Given, or been forced to part with, Daya didn’t know. She would not give any more.

“And when do you plan to do your job as her father?” Daya shot back. If she didn’t think so before, the interaction in the carriage had convinced her that Kaan did not deserve that title. He did more than some men - and that made it all the more frustrating, for a man who cared less might have allowed Daya and Pearl to go without contest. A man with so little respect for his wife was in no way equipped to raise a daughter in this world - and a man who could so easily use Pearl as a weapon was a man Daya would die to protect her from, father or not. If her own father could see her now, how things truly were, not the facade she presented to the world, and knew the situation his much-loved daughter, his only child, had found herself in, he would be appalled. If the same were to happen to Pearl, would Kaan even bat an eyelid? 

After all, Pearl was so like her mother. 

“You don’t need me to make you the fool.” Daya turned away from him, disgust for his words obvious. “Or what, Kaan? What are you going to do to me next?” She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him. It was nothing she had not heard before. “I already have my regrets.” Regrets that she had agreed to this marriage in the first place, regrets that she had not yet took her child and fled in the night. And then, he was gone, and Daya took a moment to compose herself before stepping out of the carriage. She wasn’t offended that he hadn’t lingered to help. In fact, she preferred it that way. 

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“It is your assumptions and accusations that will leave you unfulfilled in life, my darling.” He didn’t care that she was counting all the ways she felt independent. If that made her feel better then so be it, truly he needed her to be distracted, he just wished that didn’t come astride with her causing discourse in their household. Kaan didn’t think it possible for anyone - let alone someone he calls a wife- to be able to get under his skin quite the way she does. It is as if he can see his weaker points and she stabs at them angrily to inflict torture in his mind. 

Well, if she wanted to plant the dynamite in his head, then she certainly shouldn’t be surprised when his thoughts and concerns for it explode over her beautifully painted face and perfectly shaped physique. “I have done everything right by our child, does she want for anything, do you?” Regardless of what she thought, it was what it was. Emotional needs may not be something he was able to provide, but for everything else there was ample.

“You do not know regret!” He hollered, storming out of the carriage and doing nothing to offer her aid. The crisp winter air met him and he breathed it in, his breath billowing out with smoke from the heat inside of him. Perhaps he had been too harsh? No, that was a foolish thought. He couldn’t afford to show weakness where Daya was concerned, she would find it and break through, affording him no chance to raise to safety from it. 

It was with haste that he made his sudden departure, finding solace in the warmth of his estate and ignoring the callings of the help trying to, well, help him. They knew better than to bother when he was in such a state, but he wondered if his wife knew when to leave him to his devices. Kaan did his best to take some deep breaths and clear his head.

“Lemon.” He called to her from the sitting room, taking off his jacket and folding it over the back of a high chair. “I think we must have a conversation. Civilized, if possible of you.”

[theambassadorkaan]

Starter: Closed @lucianriviera​ Where: Pawnbrokers shop

The dreams were getting worse. The images more grotesque and distorted than ever before and Kaan didn’t feel like there was much he could do to make it stop. It didn’t matter how much he indulged in drink or medical, the dreams only got worse, and he was finding it harder now to wake up from them. Even when he did awake he would notice a scratch here or a scratch there - he assumed from harming himself with his certain tossing and turning during the night.

This morning was no different than the past few, he could still feel the coolness of a shadow moving against his skin, even though his body was covered in a misted sweat. “argh” The Ambassador moaned, his hands went to his hair and he gave it a tug against closed eyes. 

When will this end

Why is it happening

He shook his head as he thought to the moment that this might be his Karma with a capital K, for all the wrongdoings he’d done with Oriana to his family and lineage, that now it was catching - “Dammit” 

Could it be? He moved to his discarded jacket and pulled out his pocket watch, the one he had made as a replica to replace the one he had been given by his father.

“don’t ever lose this, Oğul. For if you do it will only bring danger and ill-will.” The flash of memory assaulted Kaan and he found himself gripping the pocket watch tight enough to leave an imprint on his palm.

Without thinking he moved quickly from his rooms, pulling on his clothes as he left, only to change into his commoner clothes as he neared the old stables. He knew were he had to go, it was really his only chance, but he couldn’t take the chance going there being him.

No, mostly people went to a pawnbroker when they didn’t have money, when they needed something cheaper than buying from somewhere or someone reputable, and he could - would - not allow anyone to think so lowly of him and his family. The item had been stolen and he didn’t know why he didn’t think of it now, but if someone stole it for money they may have tried to rid themselves of it and he didn’t care how much it would cost him to get it back - clearly it would be worth the price.

The sweat from the nightmares still dotted his skin, but now it was joined with new perspirations as he moved quickly to where he needed to go - the places no one of his status would usually be caught dead going to. His hand on the door of the establishment where three golden balls were painted, allow him to know that he was indeed at the right place. 

[theambassadorkaan]

starter: Closed Rahat @theundertakcr​ Location: Frost Fair When: December 30th 1888 “fazla kaçma, kızım“ He was certain his warning had fallen on chosen deaf ears as his daughter continued to run around with one of her caretakers that had come along with them to help watch Pearl enjoy The Frost Fair. “Anne, please follow along with her.” It was an order that didn’t need to be said, but Kaan felt the need to feel like a decent father. 

There was a squeal in the distance as Pearl watched people going around, surely something had caught her interest and Kaan could do nothing more than chuckle lowly and make his way towards his daughter. As he watched on, he couldn’t help but notice how content the attendees were, despite the events that had recently taken place, it seemed people only wanted to seek out a time and place to offer a faux blanket of safety.

A brief shiver passed through his limbs, unrelated to the frigid nip of cold in the afternoon air.  As quickly as it came, he did his best to push those horrendous thoughts away and let it pass, it would do him little good to dwell on the things he currently could not change - no, his focus should be one hundred and twenty percent on his daughter.

It should be, that is what a good father would do, a good man. He did his best but often his mind would drift to other things, his work, his wife, Oriana - would she like to come to this place with him? He suspected she would enjoy being out in public with him instead of shrouded in the privacy of indoors. As he watched on he couldn’t help but imagine him with her, in the place of the couples walking excitedly together with their families. 

Maybe I could make that work...

Kaan allowed his mind to continue it’s adventure as he idly watched Pearl and chuckled along when she laughed with Anne.

[theambassadorkaan]

orianarobles​:

Oriana had thought she was never going to escape from behind the counter that evening. Every time she tried to creep away, there was another cry for something. Another gin- Ori, could you be a love and bring me something to eat- more mulled wine- did you see where he went- She wished she could divide herself into several copies of herself, all running around and one left to sit and rest her feet… Unfortunately, the barmaid knew of no such magic that could provide her with such a relief.

The only magic she knew was the voice of the other girl finally arriving behind the counter to take her place. That voice came almost a half hour late with a sheepish grin on her face, trying to pretend she’d been there the whole while. In the spirit of the holiday, Oriana chose to keep her choice words to herself… especially if those words would have sent the girl running and her left to spend the entirety of the evening cooped up indoors. She moved like lightning, bundling herself up and wading through the crowd of drunk and drinking patrons of The Britannia until she got to the door. 

The biting cold of the evening made her breath like smoke, floating away in the dark as she stepped out into the cold. Since the ripper murders had started, the night had become far more unsettling than it had ever been before. The cold made them even worse- fear and cold. Two things she wasn’t overly fond of being. But at least the freezing cold made had brought about the Frost Fest, and with it, people in the streets into the evening hours. If Jack Frost was a real person, then she’d at least thank him for that. 

She was about to trudge off towards home to escape the cold when something caught her eye- or, rather, someone. Tall. Hat tilted low over his brow. A smile that made her heart do an utterly ridiculous little flip flop inside her chest. And a voice she would know most anywhere. Kaan… The exhaustion from a long shift dissolved into the brightest of smiles, full of energy that seemed to come from thin air. 

“Hello, love,” Oriana had always been careful when it came to Kaan. She knew better than to slip up, to trip and reveal him to the greater public. They couldn’t be found out. She couldn’t exist within the public eye. The Other Woman. She was certain that if her mother knew her situation, she would roll in her grave. But she did it for love… Oriana always reminded herself. For love’s sake. She wound her way over to Kaan, delighted and confused at his appearance. “If I’d known you were freezing out here, I would have come running to rescue you from the cold!”

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That smile. It was that smile that made him feel like a man who could achieve anything in the world. The brightness of her joy contagious and causing his own to broaden with indulgence for her happiness. 

“I believe you stole my greeting.” Uncharacteristically he grabbed hold of her already cooling hand, and brought it gently to his lips, placing a kiss that dusted over her knuckles. Just as quick as the movement happened, it ended, as there were far too many eyes that knew her at The Britannia. 

“If you had known then this wouldn’t have been a surprise.” Kaan teased her lightly, before gesturing his head to the direction of the frost fair. “Come along, My love. I have another surprise for you.” He had been tempted to bring the carriage, indulging in that privilege and bringing Oriana with him during it, but his common clothing and style would be out of place, only drawing eyes where he did not want them to be drawn.

 “I fear we must walk there, but-” Once they moved further away from the bar he offered her elbow to her “I will walk with you the entire time.” This was both a show of him being in public with her and also her knowing that he would protect her from anything the streets could come at them with. She didn’t need to fear when she was with him, he would keep her safe.

They walked in the dim light of dark, though the streets were still fairly busy with the events of winter. “I have missed you terribly today, Oriana.” He said her name with affection that wasn’t forced.

[theambassadorkaan]

Starter: Closed to Oriana + Kaan @orianarobles​ Location: Outside of Britannia Date: Dec 31st New Years Eve

It was a year of grey in many ways. From the grey areas of right and wrong, to the very literal and real greyness of life and colour being sucked from his very being. The world was a terrible place and yet so disgustingly full of wonder and greatness that one was easily consumed or manipulated into participating in it. The year of 1888 was no different from this, in fact the grey of his life seemed to be secreting through the cracks and threatening to spill over everything he held dear to him.

Kaan was not an overtly romantic type of man, no, that would show far too much weakness to those around him to afford him that trait. However, with the year coming to an end, he thought there no better way to show appreciation for one of the few things that added a splash of colour into his otherwise very devoid of colour, life. So here he stood, wearing clothes more suited to a commoner, waiting outside the Britannia which employed London’s most beautiful barmaid, to surprise her with - what he hoped, to be an evening she would be delighted in spending with him.

In hindsight he perhaps should have made sure she had not scheduled herself busy with anyone else, none of her friends or...No. He swatted away the possibility of any suiters, it would not help him to think of such devastations currently. 

The very faint ding of a bell graced the otherwise loud city streets just before the elegant curve of the women who held his captivation emerged from the building, looking tired after her long shift, but still as beautiful as ever. She wasn’t expecting him, but that’s what women liked, right? Surprises, flowers, candy - a nice dinner to see where the night leads. At least this is what Kaan assumes, as in truth, he never had to try very hard to make things click into place with Oriana - their quiet - or loud, intimate moments seemed to get them by just fine. However, he knew she wanted, needed, more from him - so he was trying. This was more, wasn’t it?

“Took you long enough to get done with work, Darlin’.” Kaan tried and probably failed at his best class-neutral accented way of speaking. His hat was tilted low and as he neared her, he tipped it up with a charming smile that lifted just the left of his mouth.

[theambassadorkaan]

dayanitas​:

Daya’s upbringing had not been the norm. That much she knew. An unconventional upbringing had bred an unconventional woman, one who wanted to be everything all at once. To be perfect. Her marriage to Kaan had been a part of that quest for perfection. The two of them were supposed to bask in golden rays of sunlight, supposed to set London alight with their combined talent and capabilities. So where had she gone so wrong? Was it simply that there was something so fundamentally unlikable, unlovable, about her that this always would have been the outcome? 

His threats are not new to Daya. She knew exactly what she stood to lose, and also knew Kaan was bold enough to carry them out. For the first time since they had stepped into the carriage, Daya’s resolve cracked. “Haven’t you taken enough?” she didn’t sound accusatory, or angry. Just very, very tired, beaten down by his unending cruelty. 

“Do you know what helps me sleep at night, Kaan?” It took every ounce of her energy to re-summon her defiance, and though half-hearted, she managed it. The change of tactics was sudden, and whilst she was hardly rolling over and showing her belly in defeat, it was clear that trading barbs was getting her nowhere. Kaan looked about ready to open the door and throw her from the still-moving carriage, and so small sacrifices must be made to win the war. “Knowing that I am doing my best for our daughter. Knowing that because of me, she has a legacy. Knowing that I would never force her to grow up without both of her parents.” not unless Kaan forced her to take matters into her own hands. 

“So I will continue to do my job. Not my games. My job. And you will clean up your act. Becasue the way I see it, the only person doing damage to this family is you.” Her eyes blazed as she forced them on to his once more. “Are you not embarrassed of this behaviour? Or is this what it takes for you to feel like a man?” 

She couldn’t resist getting another jibe in, after all. 

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There were times when the alcohol in Kaan’s system would aid him in tranquility, though evidently the mixture of Whiskey and his wife worked much like a detonation of dynamite. It was so easy for him to rile her lately and idly he wished back those times of indifference by him when she still held hope for their union. 

“Taken enough” He all but laughed out the words as she spoke them, her tone lower, less abrasive in contrast to his. “For everything you may feel I have taken - I have given you more.” This in Kaan’s mind was true, he had sacrificed a great deal to continue their marriage - to allow her to live the life she is so accustomed to. The poison from his words disappeared, he leaned back just enough to give her a fraction of space as she continued to speak.

“Do you know what helps me sleep at night, Kaan?”

He very much imagined that she often fell asleep into a serene dreamless slumber that the thought of his death, but he didn’t take the jab now - instead he waited for the response. As she spoke he kept his eyes on her, they roamed below her collarbone, but only for a moment before he brought them back to rest on her face. The tired pool of freshly brewed tea with swirls of honey that were her eyes had Kaan feeling nearly repentant for a fraction of a moment - when sincerity rang through her voice this often became the case but as she continued once more that repentance flitted away.

“That is your job as Pearls Mother.” Did she not understand? How close she was at times to gaining his empathy for the situation they both found themselves in, only to rip it away by the sharp and foul use of her otherwise lovely tongue. “The only thing I am embarrassed of is how lenient I have been with your ability to make me out to be the fool.” The arrived now outside their home, but Kaan made no move to get away from her “Do not push me My Wife, for sometime soon you may push this foolish man too far and have your regrets in doing so.” Oh how he longed sometimes to wrap his firm hands around the slim column of her neck. It was never lost on his that whether experience torment or pleasure by Daya’s whims that his longings were often the same. Pulling himself away from doing something he would surely regret, Kaan stepped out of the carriage, no hand in offering his wife the respectable assistance of dismounting it.  

[theambassadorkaan]

ferihas​:

♣

Rather than shrink to the sound of Kaan’s booming voice, she shot him a glare instead, throwing a hand out in his direction. “—Because you always react like this!” she snapped back, voice shrill. You should be happy I came to you at all, almost slipped out, but she managed to bite her tongue at the last second. The Demir family had always run hot-blooded, a quick temper inherited, as it was said, from a sultana born generations ago. For better or worse—perhaps the latter, really—it was shared by brother and sister both. 

Yet just as her temper rose to meet his, she did her best to quell it in turn as she slumped into the seat opposite his desk. A fight between them would do no good now, not when her nerves were already so frayed. Completely ignoring his first question, she barreled straight on to the second. “I don’t have it,” she said dully, sinking further into the chair. “It’s at the precinct. Daya and I went there the morning I got it. I think she made copies, but if you want to see the real thing, you’ll have to go there.”

She picked up a random pen, spinning it between her fingers as her gaze drifted to the paper on his desk. Pointing at it with the pen, she asked, “What are you doing? Looks important.” Oh, she could just hear him now. Don’t change the subject, Kardeş. That trick won’t work on me.

.

Dear sister he wanted to voice I only react like this as I am worried about your well-being and also feel responsible for it. That is what Kaan wanted to say, what he would have meant to say in any other situation. Instead however, he locked his jaw tight as a vice and regarded her with cautioned eyes. “Because you keep finding yourself in situations like this!” The frustration emanated from his voice, strong and loud. His mouth snapped tight again, giving visual representation to the stress of hearing her news. 

It would do him no good however to yell at her - reprimand her the way he wanted to. No, for that would only cause her to hasten the conversations ending and withdraw her capabilities of listening to reason. Kaan visibly attempted to relax. His shoulders lowering and his tone growing softer as he attempted to speak with her again, more reasonably. “I am not angry with you, of course this is not your fault. That is something I want you to be aware of” Every word was measured, but he did mean them in his roundabout way. “But I do not take well to my küçük kız kardeşin being threatened” The last words nearly spat out from clenched teeth as his anger rose to the thoughts his own words unveiled in his mind.

I don’t have it

Kaan did his best to keep his temper in check. The fire ignited within him being brought down to a simmering boil. It was best for him to take his seat at her words, for fear he may react uncouth before hearing the rest of her explanation. As she sunk in her chair, he lowered himself into his, and at the mention of his wife bringing her to the precinct he tried not to let that bother him that she went to Daya before him.

“I am happy you have brought it to authorities.” He nodded her intelligence for that, even bringing Daya was a competent decision. “I’ll be sure to stop by there today” With or without this incessant pounding in my brain. In the silence of her pen swirling, Kaan reflected on exactly what he would say to view the note The Ripper had left his sister - though the authorities could often be trusted to handle things - especially those of the elite class - it wasn’t enough for him. Something this delicate meant he needed to know everything so he could protect her.

When her words met his ears, Kaan gave her a wilting look of disbelief, he brushed passed her comment with a finesse that only a Demir was capable of. “ Kardeş, Why did you not come to me before now?” It wasn’t anger that painted his tone, more a tenor of concern and dare he say - disappointment.

[lucianriviera-deactivated202205]

Tarot for @theambassadorkaan

Keep reading

[theambassadorkaan]

Kaans Tarot Reading

The High Priestess

The High Priestess sits on a cubic stone between the two pillars at Solomon’s Temple, Jachin, and Boaz. Jachin (right) is generally referred to as the Pillar of Establishment and Boaz (left) is the Pillar of Strength. The pillars also depict the duality of nature; masculine and feminine, good and evil, negative and positive. The High Priestess's location between the two suggests that it is her responsibility to serve as a mediator between the depths of the reality. She is the third pillar - the path between. She believes that both pillars are equal and there is knowledge to be learned in both worlds. You will also notice that she wears the crown of Isis, which can mean that she is a believer of magic. The high priestess wearing of the solar cross denotes that she is connected to the season of the earth and the earth itself. The crescent moon at her feet is seen also in many depictions of the Virgin Mary, and means that she has a complete grasp over her emotion. Pomegranates refer to the ambition of the priestess.

The meaning of the High Priestess is related with inner knowledge. Her appearance in a reading can signify that it is time for you to listen to your intuition rather than prioritizing your intellect and conscious mind. When the High Priestess shows up, it can depict an archetype known as the divine feminine - the mysterious female that understands and holds the answers to the deep unknowns; religion, self, nature. She represents someone that is intuitive, and beginning to open to her or his spirituality. The card itself shows a night-time scene, meaning that the world in which she protects and guards is one that may at first seem frightening, but has the potential to lead us into the growth of the self. When she appears in a reading, she is calling to you to listen to her message, and follow her into your own depths. There is searching within yourself to be done for the answers that you seek. The answers to the questions you have are within, not without.

The Hermit

The Hermit depicts an old man standing alone at the peak of the mountain. He is holding a lantern in one hand, and a staff in the other. The mountain denotes accomplishment, development, and success. The Hermit Cards refers to a spiritual knowledge, and a desire to share that knowledge with everyone. There is a deep commitment to his goal and an awareness of the path he walks on. Inside the lantern is a six-pointed star, representing wisdom. The staff represents authority and power.

The Hermit seeks knowledge that comes from within. he searches for what can only be gained through long periods of solitude. His inner voice can only be heard by disconnecting from the crowds of voices and desires that may overcome his own. Guided only by the light  of the norther star, his destination is his home, himself.

You are considering your own solitude, and whether it may be necessary. Do not be afraid to take this chance to reflect, and clear your mind of clutter. You are making efforts to take actions that is authentic to your true self, and searching your soul for guidance on what is right, and where your next steps should be.

The King of Cups, reversed

The King of Cups signifies generosity, control, and emotional balance. The card shows a king upon a throne, wearing an amulet shaped like a fish. The fish represents creativity and spirit that thrives in calm waters. The card demonstrates a steady balance between conscious and unconscious. Behind the king, a fish leaps from the water on the right, and a ship sails on the left, representing the emotional and material word respectively. The King does not suppress impulses, but deals with them in a balanced manner.

The King of Cups is one of the most influential cards of his suit. He possesses the ability to restrain one's emotions, yet be fully in charge of your feelings and impulses, a balance between intellect and emotions, and a strong relationship between understanding and feeling. Balanced and controlled emotions require a deep knowledge and awareness of yourself, and when faced with challenges that normally would throw you off balance, the King of Cups reminds you not to fly into a rage or fall into despair. You should learn to temper your emotions so that you may press forward, and evaluate yourself to create a stronger awareness of your eternal state. Political and diplomatic, The King of Cups is a sensitive leader, remaining mature when dealing with negative energy.

The King of Cups may symbolize an older male figure in your life, willing to take responsibility for his actions and a master of his own self-understanding.

The card is reversed. At his worst, The King of Cups may signify volatility, emotional manipulation, or moodiness. His ability to handle situations with compassion and wisdom is loss, and he may manipulate circumstances to fit his needs. When representing another character in your life, a reversed King of Cups shows somebody very in touch and controlled with his emotions becoming manipulative and controlling. His actions will be used for vengeance, aimed at delivering punishment.

[theambassadorkaan]

dayanitas​:

Daya was not a fretful woman. It took a lot to make her flinch away, or stir anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She had existed as a woman, all too often the only woman, in a world dominated by men for far too long. But when it came to her husband, things were different. There wasn’t anybody quite as adept at making Daya feel so insecure, even if just by silent disinterest (or was it contempt? was there a difference?) 

And so, Daya did what she did best. She kept it all in. Her expression barely changed, legs crossing neatly at the ankle, looking at Kaan as though he was something mildly interesting she had spotted out the window. “I think we both know what you are capable of.” In her heart she did, at the very least. She was wildly suspicious, though she had no proof that her dear husband was doing anything untoward. 

Yet.

His next words hit her like a punch to the gut. She had worked hard to get to where she was, to uphold the legacy handed to her, and she knew that she was good at what she did. Architecture was a boys club, with with her father’s guidance, Daya had carved a place for herself, made certain that it was beyond a shadow of a doubt that she belonged there. That Kaan would seek to take that from her stung, but it wasn’t a surprise. Not at this point.

And still, Daya kept her reaction minimal, though there was no mistaking the defiance in her eyes. “That’s quite the temper tantrum, Kaan,” she spoke in slow, gentle tones, the same ones she used to explain to their daughter a concept that was beyond their three-year-old understanding. “How fragile your ego must be that you are so intimidated by your wife’s success. Bitterness doesn’t look good on you.” She hated his invasion of her space but she didn’t back away, instead raising her chin so that she may look him in the eye, a direct challenge. “You don’t let me do anything. I decide what I do.” 

On the outside, Kaan was not a difficult person to get along with. How is it that their marriage had come to this? How had the disdain and resentment grown so strong that it felt like living in a battlefront with no weapons three-hundred and sixty-five days a year? Perhaps it was just his ingenuous mind at the time of his union to expect something more from that they had - for perhaps life to have grown more fond with her in it. This however, never seemed to be the case and now more than ever he wondered what was the point in any of it.

Your daughter his mind berated him. Your pride. Your family would approve of nothing else. It continued to taunt.

He wanted to shut off the incessant voices his somewhat intoxicated mind was only too willing to provide. “Enough.” The warning came out a low growl of contempt. Had he any inclination earlier to feel contrite about his words, well now that easily flew from his mind and rested itself outside London. No, this was why he felt the way he did, surely this was not his doing but - hers. 

“Is that what you must tell yourself to sleep at night?” He smirked, though there was not a trace of humor to be found upon his lips. “Do not fool yourself into thinking you have the control here, when you are aware of how easily I can take it all away.” The threat seethed out of him through a tight jaw. Her leaving him to his devices was the only reason he left her to her own. There were times he wondered how he could fix the problems in his own home, but today was no longer one of those time.

With her so close to him, it was hard not to want to kiss her or kill her sometimes. She had a way of igniting an anger in him that no other was capable of, while he hated it, he had to admit there was a secret hint of contentment that she was so capable a woman. Though that was something he wouldn’t readily admit to anytime soon, especially not when she riled him so. “I do think it best you remember who we are and the damage that can be caused so easily.”

[theambassadorkaan]

dayanitas​:

When Daya was a girl, her father had sat her on his knee, and asked her what she wanted to be when she was older. ‘I want to be like you, Nayana,’ Little Daya had replied. She had known, even then, at not much older than Pearl, that her father was special. As a parent, as a business man, he had succeeded in every aspect of his life, and Daya had spent every waking moment chasing that same level of perfect. 

If you asked her what she wanted to be now, Daya would still say she wanted to be like her father - because her father was widowed. 

But these were thoughts she would never say aloud, not even in her most heated moments. Daya had become accustomed to masking how she felt under a veneer of icy disdain - if she hadn’t, the entire bar would have seen how his nickname made her very skin crawl. 

She said nothing, she didn’t react, she didn’t even let her perfect, sweet smile falter. The only indication that things were less than rosy came from the slight arch of her back, just enough that she could not feel the pressure of her husband’s fingers upon her skin. They were both far more comfortable when they were not touching one another. 

“Thank you” her tone was clipped as she took his hand, just in case anybody was watching their little tableau of a happy marriage, but withdrew it again as soon as her foot hit the top step. She settling into her seat, eyes boring into Kaan as he entered himself. 

“If I had known I’d be peeling you off the bar in the middle of the day, I would have requested an alternative venue for meeting with my investors.” She shot him a look of pure disappointment. “Can you no longer wait until it is dark to do whatever it is that you do?” 

The perfect arch of her brow could have sent even the strongest of men cowering. Thankfully, Kaan had grown accustomed to it, the icy stare no longer freezing him in place with the magnitude of coldness his wife was capable of. When they left the pub and he offered her his hand, he wasn’t surprised when she took it and helped herself into the carriage. That was an obvious thing to do, the two of them and their perfect marriage for all to witness. 

The moment she let go, he could feel the coolness of the touch she left behind. As a man of intelligence - he doubted, of course, that this was more than the heat of her hand escaping his and the crispness of the autumn London air taking its place. Still, Kaan could swear it was more than that.

“Pleasure.” He stated robotically, the usual song and dance leaving his lips without much thought or meaning. As he nestled down into the seat himself, Kaan couldn’t help to feel a pit of loneliness in the vehicle. Here he was, in tight quarters with a woman who was entirely too beautiful to belong to him - other than when she spoke - and yet he felt more alone than he had in the pub with no company other than the scotch that burned with every swallow.

“Peeling. That seems a touch of an exaggeration.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes akin to the rude manner his daughter had recently picked up, but he found rather entertaining when it wasn’t directed at him. “It is astounding at what you think me not capable of.” Was he that bad a man? Someone who could produce and encourage such hatred in the woman he married.

“Tell me then, Lemon. What is it you were doing with those investors?” His head cocked to the side in interest, his brows raising just slightly with anticipation. “Because I can  say with certainty the only thing they are interested in investing in is your body.” The words left his mouth and he wasn’t entirely sure why he had said them. As if to finalize his point the carriage bumped harshly against the road outside. Was he jealous? He didn’t think so, but he was angry. “I let you play your games.” He concluded his eyes not turning away from her for the mere fact that it would be cowardice to do so at this point. Instead he only leaned into her closer, his mouth nearing her ear “So leave me to bloody-well play mine, Karim.”

[yesterdaysprint]

The Windsor Star, Ontario, November 1, 1958 

[1dietcokeinacan]

LMFAOOOO get him aunty climax

[formorrow-sur]

Chicago (2002)

[theambassadorkaan]

ferihas​:

closed to : @theambassadorkaan location : kaan’s office time :october, whenever you want

Feriha does not tell her brother things anymore.

She does not need to, she tells herself. It would just be a burden when he has so much else to do, and there would be no point when it ends up in an argument more than half the time. He seems to let her do what she wants, when she wants, and that suits her just fine—better a busy brother than an overbearing parent.

Still, there are things she must say, else the weight fall too heavy on her shoulders. Things that she thinks her brother knows how to fix, simply because he’s always been good at fixing things, always been good at being put together, and though she’d already been told that the letter is just another part of Jack’s game, part of her still runs to Kaan for reassurance.

“Abi?” she asks, stepping into his office, hovering just past the door as if she’s just crossed a threshold. She hardly comes here as it is, unconcerned by whatever he does for work. Once, on a rainy Tuesday, she’d eavesdropped on a meeting with her ear pressed to the door, but had quickly grown bored by the talk of politics. “You must’ve heard about that letter business. You know, Jack sending them around. Maybe Daya told you about it.” It occurs to her she doesn’t know what they tell each other. Perhaps it’s for the better. “Anyway, I got one—” Her gaze roams across the room, landing on a spot where a decanter should be. “It was horrible. He sent me a little present,” she tilts her head, hoping Kaan will understand what she means without having to spell the gruesome bit out, “and said it’d be me next if I didn’t stay out of Whitechapel. Not that I’m planning on going back, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

The last night had been too long a night. Kaan had lost track of time, too busy indulging in his own desires to realize that daylight had been just on the horizon of breaking. 

So now he sat at his desk, being punished for his sins by the excruciating pounding in the front of his skull and the pile of work that urgently needed his attention. Assuming a bit of hair from the dog would aid in this torturous megrim, he had taken it upon himself to throw back some of the ember liquids inside of the decanter in his office. The decanter, nearly empty, mocked Kaan on his desk as it aided in no regard to lessen his pain nor annoyance the previous night had caused him now. 

He busied himself with easier work, letters from back home that did not cause his head to want to explode from focus. Usually Kaan is never one to miss something as obvious as someone hovering near the entrance of his office, but today it seemed he had slipped. Thankfully - no delightfully, it was his sister, so he placed down the paper in front of him and welcomed the distraction she may offer. He hoped she had not gotten herself into trouble, though he pushed the thought from his mind and stood to wave her into his office. 

“ Kardeş” He greeted her back, their mother tongue slipping from his mouth as smooth as running a hand over silk. At the remark about his wife and mentioning anything to him, he fought the urge to offer an unamused smirk. His wife very rarely had the consideration to indulge him with particulars of anything. Had he heard about the letters? Yes, of course. Most people in the city had by now, but he had gone unscathed from this Ripper encounter, so he pushed the thoughts away and had busied himself in other aspects of life. However, that ignorant bliss was short lived as the words  Anyway, I got one left the mouth of his beloved younger sister. For a moment the pounding in his head increased with the hard tempo of his heartbeat, a match inside of him ignited to flare the anger he tries so hard to keep from view. 

“Present?” The deep baritone of his voice coming out sharp with his anger and protectiveness. “Why were you there in th-” Kaan took a much needed deep breath, as he rubbed the front of his head with his thumb and index finger to lessen the pain radiating through his overworked brain. “Where is this letter?” Kaan wanted to see it - read it with his own eyes to absorb the information, no matter how he knew it would infuriate and provoke him. “Why are you just coming to me now?” His tone, sharper than it usually was boomed out as his hand tightened into a fist. It would do no good to take his anger out on his sister, so once more he did his best to rein it in.

“Feriha, I need to see that letter” He needed to know what was said, what present was given, and what sort of threats The Ripper deemed worthwhile to use against his kin. Kaan was as determined as the pounding radiating through his head - he wanted to find something of use in this letter.

[theambassadorkaan]

dayanitas​:

It wasn’t often that Dayanita found herself in a bar at this time, but part of business was learning to belong in places where you simply didn’t. The meeting with a prospective client had gone well, despite the fact they had requested an informal pub visit to something more professional, in Daya’s study at home. She had been reluctant, but she had gritted her teeth and gone along with it, and it had worked. Contracts had been drawn up, hands shaken, and the project was officially on. 

Daya’s good mood at her success was short-lived, however. Upon leaving the booth she had been tucked away in with her clients, hidden and private from the rest of the bar, her eyes came to rest on a familiar, but unwelcome sight, and she was filled with the same complicated, indescribable feeling that she always got when she clapped eyes on her husband. 

She approached with an arsenic-sweet smile, one that graced her face independently of her cold, hard, eyes. “Get up,” the words were as gentle as it was possible for Daya to make them, but her irritation was radiating from her in waves. “The carriage is waiting to take me home. You may as well join me.” 

Speaking of blocking light in his life, Kaan had found himself turning to the icy cold eyes of his unbeloved wife. Often he wondered how she managed that...look...she always had when she was near to him. Of course, one could mistake her radiant smile as sincere, not him though. No, if you knew her well enough you could see the daggers hidden there, ready to slice you open with so much as an opposition. 

“Ah, My Lemon. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Displeasure, but he wasn’t going to announce that in a semi-crowded room. His eyes never left hers when she spoke, her tone as sweet as honey, but he could taste the sourness of a lemon behind them. His body was just a touch indolent with liquor as he stood and his attempt to match her smile with a fake one of his own was substandard at best. This was not the sort of place he would assume to catch his wife in during this time of day - or any really, but here she stood before him in all her exemplary appearances. 

His eyes moved of their own accord, searching the room for the evidence of who she may have just been consorting with. Unsatisfied at his lack of attention to his surroundings, Kaan straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat “Yes.” He was tempted to throw back the rest of the scotch in his glass, but such thing wouldn’t be very becoming in a place where people knew him. “I shall join you then.” The reluctance in his tone was for the glass he was leaving behind, so much for enjoying a tumbler. 

“After you, my love.” His hand touched the small of her back, barely brushing the fabric of her jacket, as they both knew it was for show. With his hand he ushered her out through the doors, inhaling the scent of London air, repugnant when compared to that of his birth place. Kaan opened his hand to her, an offer of aid to get into the carriage, but he was all too curious still as to whom his wife was with in that bar.